


Só grato

by kjstark



Series: Football RPF one-shots [1]
Category: Brazil NT - Fandom, Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjstark/pseuds/kjstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What good is a number 11 without his 10?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Só grato

**Author's Note:**

> I DID THE THING! So, I've been on a football fever for the past month! And I've acquaried this brand new cute little ship. I don't usually ship real-life people, but when I do...
> 
> Anyway, someone asked for Oscar visiting Neymar after the injury he got in the Brazil vs Colombia match of the 2014 World Cup and I couldn't not write it. 
> 
> English is not my main language yadayada, enjoy!

Oscar didn't bother to knock on the door.

He breathed in and remembered the last time he saw Neymar, when they were all saying goodbye to him the night after the game. He recalled not being able to speak any words. Just kneeling to him in that hideous wheel-chair that scared the living crap out of him, and kissing him in the cheek. He stayed like that as Neymar rested the bone of his eyebrow to his shoulder and fixed his cap so photos would look good. He remembered lost words, lies, of " _I'm okay. It's all fine. Don't worry_." And he remembered he wanted to believe that a lot.   
  
As he walked inside, everything he felt before he entered faded away at the sight of a frustrated Neymar hitting the back of the remote with the heel of his hand. His tongue was peeking out of his mouth in a very child-like way, and his shoulders shook hard with every hit he gave.  
  
"You're gonna give everyone more trouble if you keep shaking your body like that," Oscar tried to sound cool, but his eyebrows turned down in a frown. Neymar startled just as soon as he spoke, surprised by the presence of someone, but when he noticed it was actually just Oscar he relaxed on his bed.   
  
"They left me alone here and the goddamned TV won't turn on," he explained, trying to sound as carefree as Neymar had always been but there was bitterness in the back of his words, you could catch it if you listened well, or knew the boy as much as Oscar did. He was dressed in a black v-neck and one of his Nike caps. No cables, no nothing and yet they both knew he couldn't move, couldn't leave.  
  
Oscar shook his head, pushing negativity away, and walked behind the TV, where the energy cable was out of the energy entry. He connected it and the TV made a 'click' noise and then it was on. Neymar gave him and amused look.   
  
"Well, that was stupid," he said, zapping through channels now. "Shouldn't you be at La Granja?" He asked, casually, as if it didn't bother him they _both_ weren't there, not meeting the taller man's eyes.   
  
"How are you?" Oscar asked instead, at the same time. Neymar flicked his sight to him for a second and then shrugged.   
  
"I told you. Aside from the broken back, I'm fine." And there was certain truth about that, but Oscar knew better.   
  
Neymar's lips suddenly pressed closed and his eyes changed emotions. Oscar turned around and stared at the TV. The news report title read "Brazil's NT is lost without star Neymar" and the report itself was far more insulting. He swallowed hard and walked to turn off the TV but not before one them said, "Maybe now we'll finally be able to see Chelsea's star Oscar shine, without Neymar out of the picture," and Oscar snorted, shaking his head. That was so off-putting for him because, honestly, how would he ever shine without Neymar near? He needed him more than he'd care to admit.   
  
Oscar turned back when the TV was just a black board and Neymar just sighed, looking up to the ceiling. "What are you doing here? You should be there, training so what they're saying won't come true," he wasn't mad, not at him, at least.   
  
"I did. And then we were done. You know how Felipão feels about over-training, and he also said that one of us should come here," Oscar replied, and Neymar's face changed slowly.   
  
"So how come it's you and not Davi?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Oscar finally smiled, devilish as it may.   
  
"He got distracted by democracy. They all wanted to come, even Adriana." Adriana was the old lady that cleaned their tables before dinner. "While they were all fighting and deciding how to choose and who, I walked over to Felipão, told him I was coming here and took a cab," and Neymar was giving him this fake-shocked look because that's not Oscar-like behavior. Oscar's quiet and silly and a natural rules-follower. Oscar's very guy-next-door, and Neymar secretly loves that about him. "Not my most honest move, I know, but," he moved his right shoulder. 'I wanted to see you' was left unsaid.   
  
"How are you doing?" And the hoarseness of his voice made him think he was in pain. Oscar shook his head, shrugging, not understanding.   
  
"It's all fine. We're not supposed to tire ourselves too much, you know," he replied, quickly.   
  
"That's not what I meant," Neymar clarified, raising one eyebrow. His voice serene. Oscar stared at bright eyes for far too long and sighed, pressing his lips in a swallowed pout as he looked out the big window. Oscar moved his head to the side and looked down to his feet.   
  
"It's weird," he muttered. "Without you there." He didn't realize when, but he started walking closer to the bed, just until he was right next to Neymar. "I just keep thinking I'm gonna get the ball and you won't be there to catch it and do your wonders," he confessed, looking at his teammate in the eye. At one of his best friends.   
  
"Aww, are you upset 'cause no ones gonna score for you but yourself?" He joked, and Oscar felt weight fall off his shaking chest.   
  
"You're so full of yourself," he joked back, cracking a laugh. Neymar shrugged, cocky, joking, but then his smile turned tender.   
  
"You guys don't need me as much as everyone thinks. You know that, Oscar," he said, curving his lips.   
  
"We're always gonna need you, Ney. I know I am." He looked at Neymar as he did rare times, trying to bare his soul to him so he'd know how exactly did he felt.  
  
Oscar dragged a chair to where he'd been standing and sat. Neymar followed with his sight. "You do just fine without me in Chelsea," he reminded. But Oscar closed his eyes, shaking his head no.   
  
"That's different. _There_ is different," he corrected. "It's about me. Trying to prove something to myself and the world. It's...individualistic." Neymar rose his eyebrows, waiting for the other footballer to continue. "When I'm here it's about all of us. About the team, the nation. About you and me...together, and how good we are like that." Oscar was trying not to crash, he was trying not to sound like everything was completely awful. But it was hard, given that he and Neymar dreamed of this since they knew each other at seventeen. "What good is a number 11 without his 10?" He muttered to his moving hands. Neymar looked at them and grabbed them, rubbing his thumb in the back of Oscar's hand.   
  
"You know what the doctors told me?" He asked. Oscar raised his head and shook his head slowly. "They said that if I would've got hit in my second vertebra I would've been paralyzed for life, the first one and I'd be dead," he told him, blinking tears that were forming in his eyes. "It's bad, I know, it sucks. We dreamed about this since I was number 11 and you were the 10, remember?" He asked, cracking a bitter laugh. "But my dream's not over. And I need you to live yours fully with the rest of the guys. C'mon, you're the remaining star according to that god awful TV program," he said, pointing with his chin at the dead TV. "Imagine I'm right there, I'm just too busy keeping germans away from you as I distract them with my good-looks and football charm." Oscar shook his head, laughing. "I have faith you guys'll do this for us all," he bit his lips and searched for Oscar's eyes.   
  
"We will. I told you, I'll run twice as hard. I'll score one for you and one for me," and they both laughed, because only a couple of kids like them could have this kind of faith. For Oscar, it was all he knew, it was the only option he allowed himself to have. Neymar was just alike, but this time his body demanded other options. Other and only options.   
  
"I need another favor, though," he asked, seemingly innocent.   
  
"What?" Oscar asked, carefully.   
  
"Can you lean over and kiss me? I mean, I want to do it myself but my back doesn't like the idea very much," and he made it sound like he was asking for a glass of water, not to break the pact of 'Things we're not to do ever again ever' but he was looking at him like a kicked kitten and Oscar hadn't learned to reject that yet.   
  
He pressed the palm of his feet and gave him a slow, tentative kiss, just bare lips and soft breaths. Neymar smiled between their lips and whispered, "Good luck," and his eyes were shining, because he was telling Oscar good luck in a bed, two days before the semi and not in their locker room, ten minutes before "show time".   
  
"I brought M &Ms and my tab," he said after they were done breathing each other's air. "There's a crying little girl on youtube you so gotta see."

**Author's Note:**

> The video of the little girl is actually the cutest thing ever and I could not put it here. And fun fact: the newsreport with that actual headline was actually true. It was just in my country.


End file.
